


The Heart and Stomach of a Wolf

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: pre-Battle of Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 02:05:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18768961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Sansa speaks to her loving people at the dawn of the battle; or, Sansa gives a northern version of Elizabeth I's Tilbury speech.





	The Heart and Stomach of a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> This comes from a very old tumblr prompt: Can you write sansa giving some kind of tillsbury speech?
> 
> If you'd like to see a prompt filled or have a request, feel free to send one to my tumblr [ask box](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/ask).
> 
>  
> 
> Originally written in 2017 and now mildly edited.

 

The bitter, harsh winds scratched against Sansa's rosy cheeks, sharp as any cat's claw. She pulled her dark furs closer around her body with one hand, while using the reins to steady her mount with the other. The time was here at last, that which they had feared since Jon's ascension to the throne of the North, since he claimed his spot as a King of Winter, since their time of brief happiness began and then came crumbling apart with news from a discovery of Bran's that left their world torn apart.

Sansa sent up a prayer for strength against the coming storm, to the gods of her father and the gods of her mother. Before her, the warriors of Winterfell were covered in equally thick layers of fur and leather and wool. Everyone understood the costs of this cold, the reasons for this winter. If they did not steady themselves and win this battle, their children would not suffer for it later. They would suffer for it now. Again, she wished that Jon was with her, to offer comfort and support as he was so good at doing, but Jon commanded the fighters on the true battlefield of the North. They fought in the remnants of the fallen Wall, destroyed by the blast of ancient magic from a long-forgotten and unassuming horn.

She had taken her rightful place as ruling lady of Winterfell with his departure to fight with the woman who was the new southern queen and also his aunt. There was much to do to prepare for a winter now, all of it made five times as hard by the difficulties of fighting an unseen war against the dead in the middle of the darkest time any of them had ever known. And now the dangers came to their gate, darker and harder and faster than expected.

Late in the night before, a signal fire had appeared through the merciless onslaught of snow, a beacon of light through the white-tinged darkness. The end was coming south to Winterfell.

She and Ser Davos readied their people as they had prepared to do, hiding the women and children in the deepest parts of the keep and stockpiling them with supplies - food, blocks of ice to turn to water, firewood, blankets - anything they might need to protect for the survival of them all. It all seemed too soon, though, as there was still wood to cut and gather, people who had still not yet reached the wintertown, but it had to be done anyway. Their people relied on them to keep them safe from this danger of nightmares.

During these preparations, the other commanders oversaw as the warriors prepared their blades, mostly dragonglass brought by Daenerys Targaryen from Dragonstone moons before. Some, like her sister Arya, polished their Valyrian steel in wait for the battle.

Arya sat upon Nymeria's back a ways off from the human troops. Behind the pair, hundreds of grey wolves snarled and gnashed their teeth. The men of the south whispered that it was eery to see how the followed her sister, but Sansa could not be more proud of the wolf in Arya finding its place as a true queen of the wolves.

"My lady," Ser Davos said next to her, voice cutting through the loud whips of wind, "the men are restless. Would you address them, raise their spirits?"

Sansa closed her eyes and quietly went back to another battle, when Ser Davos was on the other side. This was her part to play, she knew. She was no warrior, like Arya and Jon, and she had no magic that she knew of, like her brother Bran. She had only her blood, her head, and her heart. Advice from a queen so different from Daenerys filled her mind - tears are not a woman's only weapon, make sure they fear you more than the enemy - so many other words that seemed useless to her now. I will make them love me.

Eyes flicked open, and she straightened her back. "Yes, Ser Davos. It is time for words."

She nudged the horse forward, to ride before the mass of men and wildling women. She surveyed their faces, finding many she has come to know in the past months as they prepared for the onslaught of night. Brienne would have a shock, to have her near these troops. Brienne worried, as she always had, that something would happen to Sansa if she ventured too close to anyone who was not intimately trusted by the remaining Starks. Sansa had insisted that Brienne stay inside to protect the women and children, and especially Bran. Sansa would join them soon enough, as the battlefield was no place for a woman without a sword or a wolf. But first, she must do this thing.

"My loving people-" Sansa began, voice loud as she could make it. They stirred and passed whispers as they came to hear her. She swallowed, she must be stronger, for them. "Free Folk, men of the Reach, Dornishmen, Northmen, people all!

"I have been persuaded by some that are careful of my safety, to take heed how I commit our selves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people, for you are true men and women of Westeros, not Lannisters or their ilk, but true people of these seven Kingdoms and beyond!"

She licked her lips as some of those before her chuckled. "Let the dead fear!"

The warriors roared at that, their voices met with a chorus of howls from Arya's vantage point. Sansa looked to her sister, and though she could barely see Arya's face beneath her hood and through the snow, she knew that if their were no impediments they would see eye to eye and this gave her strength.

She moved her horse further along the line of men, speaking as she went so all could hear the words she said for them. "I have tried to behave and act so that, under the old gods and the new, my chiefest strength and safeguard is placed in the loyal hearts and good-will of the North; and now I put that strength and safeguard into all of you here, fighting for the rest of humanity!"

Her speech until now had come from practiced words of wisdom and strength, those she thought they wished to hear. But next, Sansa spoke from the bottom of her heart. She truly believed in the strength of these fighters, in their ability to save all of them.

"Therefore I am amongst you, as you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport," She realized she would not leave them, for she trusted them so thoroughly and would not want them to think that she did not, "but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all; to lay down for the North, and for humanity, and my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust!"

They leveled their eyes at her, some cheers being heard along the line again. Sansa saw one woman of the Free Folk, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow and scornful, mocking eyes, as if to say that she was no warrior. She swallowed again. "I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a wolf, and of a wolf of Winterfell too!"

Arya's cheer sounded loud at that, as her sister neared her pack. The wolves joined in again, adding their strength to her words. Arya reached from Nymeria's back and held a hand to Sansa. She squeezed tightly, and Sansa took courage from the motion and her wolves, meant only for Sansa. "The pack will survive."

Sansa turned her horse back to the warriors and trotted back to the center of their lines. "I say, foul scorn upon the Iron Islands or Iron Throne, or any lord of Westeros, that should dare to invade the borders of our realm; and even greater more upon this supernatural threat that shall think to challenge us, we merry men of the human realm! If any dishonour shall grow by me, I myself will take up arms, I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field if you so need me to be!"

She met their faces again, searching soldier to soldier, fighters all of them who would give their lives for their wives, children, and brothers-in-arms. "I know already, for your forwardness you have deserved rewards; and I do assure you on a word of a daughter of Winterfell, they shall be duly paid when this battle against the night is won." She turned to Ser Davos, who rode alongside the wildling commanders and southern generals. "In the mean time, our generals shall be in my stead, whom never prince commanded a more noble or worthy subject; not doubting but by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and your valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these enemies of al the gods, of our humanity, and of our people!"

The cheers that arouse upon the completion of her words gave her the strength she lacked from Jon's missed presence. She felt the warmth that emanated not just from the warrior's breath, but from their hearts and spirits. This mutual sentiment would guide them to victory, for a saddened bunch of troops could night fight the truth of death in the heart of the Long Night without a fire that burned even hotter than the cold that beat around them. The calls and voices lasted long until she reached the end of the line again, the men sure of the world they would save.

Finally, Sansa brought her horse round to her advisors again. Ser Davos reached his good hand and touched her shoulder, gently but steadfastly. "You have done well, my lady."

Sansa offered him a smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Ser Davos. I would be at a loss without your guidance."

"He would be proud." Ser Davos squeezed her shoulder. He knew what those words would mean to her, how much she missed the comfort of Jon's support. She turned her head to answer him, but all of this was lost in the loud trumpeting, three long blasts that heralded the arrival of the end or the beginning of the future.

**Author's Note:**

> You can hit me up at [tumblr](https://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com) for more ASOIAF speculation and GOT fun.


End file.
